50 Years Gone
by kgkah123
Summary: DO NOT READ THIS STORY


**Please R&R! This is my first HG fanfic, so...yeah. When I began this, Bruny was in District 10.** **Even I can't wait to see how the story develops! This is the Quarter Quell of 125-50 years after Katniss, and the rebellion. Oh yeah, and remember the situation they were in in Mockingjay right after Boggs and Mitchell died? They left the warehouse moments before the explosion that Snow claimed killed them. Well...what if it had?**

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><p>CHAPTER ONE:<p>

I stared into the darkness, unblinking, unmoving. I hadn't slept at all that night, and yet I didn't feel the least bit tired. When the sun just began to peek over the horizon, I yawned and got up; I was just a few minutes behind the alarm. I wanted to get up peacefully, before the bird's early screeches jolted me forcefully out of my calm. I was careful not to wake my little sisters as I dragged myself out of the bed, but unfortunately, Mckenzie must have felt the movement; she was the lightest sleeper of us all.

"Shh," I hushed, tucking her back into bed. "It's not Uptime yet." I brushed the hair out of her face as she fell back asleep. I kissed her forehead, making her eyelids flutter, then they became still. Yes, Uptime is morning, when they sun has risen and it is time for fishing. Our family was relying on me to catch the food for the day. Midtime is when the sun is highest—the time of day we're dreading. Because today is reaping day. It was little wonder I wanted my sister to sleep as late as she could. Put it off as long as possible. They say—the rumors say—this year will be rigged. Which scares me more than anything. I remember my brother, his voice as he fought them. For me.

_"No! You can't take her! She's my sister, my little sister! Please!"_ I shook my head to clear my memory. Yeah, I've been to the capitol before. And it changed me in ways no one could ever understand. Except maybe Rueben. If he were only here. I sighed, and dragged on my boots, my coat, my net and bucket. I jumped when I felt a rough hand on my shoulder.

"You nearly scared me to death!" I whispered hoarsely. The man standing behind me gazed at me sadly, caressing my face. His curly bronze-colored hair showed through the early morning darkness.

"You look so like your mother," he said quietly. I snorted, and brushed his hand away.

"That's what you always say."  
>"But I never really appreciated it until now." I gave him a look.<p>

"Do you know something I don't, Daddy?" I asked suspiciously. He just sighed.

"Go on to work. I'll meet you in the square at Midtime." He turned and began walking over to my sisters, all crowded together on the little sleeping area. I pushed the creaky cabin door open, and went out into the sand.

I have eight sisters. Two brothers. Ten in all. There's the oldest of us, Rueben—he was the leader. One of us got hurt, we went to him. Needed help, or support, we came to him. And he treated us like he would his own children. He was fun, he was kind, he was gentle, and he made us feel happy. Until he was reaped about two years ago and won. They took him to the Capitol, and we haven't seen him since. Things happened in between, though. Things I can't even bear to thing about. I carefully fingered the scar on my wrist, suppressing the memories.

Then there's Jerrell. He was the hardest working, always the one to get things done first. He was proud, but not overly cocky, and he got married and moved out last year, while I was at the Capitol. There's Magaly, my elder sister. She became my surrogate mother after Mama died from a sickness several years ago. She died giving birth to Retta, my youngest sister. There's Arnetta and Arletta, born a year apart and named after my mother's cousins. They did everything together, and at 13 and 12, I haven't let them take any tesserae. Latoria is 9, and loves to help. I don't think there's anything she likes more than seeing a smile on someone else's face, and she does everything she can to put it there and keep it there. She has a lot of energy, and loves to run. Barbara's 8, and she gets into all kinds of trouble. But she always has a story to tell. Jina and Mckenzie are twins, born the year before Retta. They have some kind of problem; I don't really know what else to call it. They never talk, they sometimes suddenly stop in the middle of what they're doing or saying and just stare blankly into space. They have trouble sleeping, and several times do I allow them to curl up in bed next to me. Then there's Retta—everyone in the family is overprotective of her, spoiling her every chance they get. But she's kind, even though she takes things for granted. She is only four, after all.

I think about my family often, especially my mother. I also think about what could have been. My father often told me stories; stories of what could have been. He told me stories his mother told him. He told stories of a time when, for a short while, there was peace. There was a rebellion, led by a girl named Katniss Everdeen. Before she blew up in a Capitol building along with her team. And the short spark of hope the districts had was over. The Capitol swooped right back in, and took the place back. That was how my grandfather died. I don't think I could have been more proud of him. I sighed, and walked down the beach. I got to the edge of the water, and stuck my toes in the wet sand. The waves came in, went out, and I sank a little bit. I closed my eyes.

_"Hello, Lovely. What are you doing by the water on your own?"_

_ "Sinking, Grandma. Stick your toes in the sand, and when the waves come in, you'll sink!"_

I opened them in a flash. Too many memories. When Grandma used to call me Lovely. Darling. Sweetheart. Before she stopped talking. I gasped in the sea air, suddenly desperate for escape. I pulled my feet out of the sand, stood still for a moment, and tossed the net out into the sea. Gathering it together, I pulled up several large fish. I heaved it up toward the cabin. Grandma was sitting on the little chair on the porch of the cabin. I struggled a fish out of the net, and held it up to her. It was the biggest one.

"Look, Grandma. I got this one special for you." I held it in front of her face. She stared into space, her eyes slightly out of focus. She blinked several times before her eyes fully landed on the fish. Her lips lit up in a tiny smile, and she took it carefully, holding it gently in her lap, as if it were a baby. She nodded, and I entered the cabin, where all my sisters were lined up in their dresses for this year's reaping. Magaly came up to me, holding a beautiful silk fabric. When I touched it, it felt like I was holding water. "It's beautiful," I whispered. She nodded, a small smile.

"Father wanted me to have it. But _I_ wanted _you_ to have it." I gaped at her in awe.

"But, Magaly—This is Grandma's old reaping dress!" I recognized it from their old pictures. And the fact that she told me. Magaly smiled wryly.

"You were closest to her. She would _want_ you to have it." I took it from her, holding it up.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." I hugged her tightly, the dress between us, and looked out the window, at the sun hanging high overhead.


End file.
